


Hearth and Home

by Shatterpath



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-02
Updated: 2002-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the schmoop prompt of: Cuddling by the fire</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearth and Home

++ Dace ++

 

(3-2-02)

 

The space is different yet again. 

 

It seems that my territory changes daily, much to the annoyance of my animal-like instincts. No matter that all of it is necessity. I have been in flux and racing along at top speed since that fateful phone call two months ago tomorrow.

 

Two months…

 

Has it really only been that long?

 

Finally opening my eyes, I look around the sprawling, airy master bedroom, inhaling the scents of the new space mixed with the intertwined lives that define the space into a home. Rolling my head on the pillow, I'm unsurprised to find Lindsey still sleeping in the big bed I share with her mother. There is no Catherine, but a fire crackles merrily in the gas fireplace we both delighted in, warming both her lingering scent and the otherwise dark room. 

 

My internal clock guesses it's brutally early in the morning so it's little surprise that those of us that are habitually nocturnal are restless, despite the long, stressful day of moving halfway across Las Vegas. Careful to not disturb the somnolent Lindsey, I lever my perpetual sore body from the soft bed and pad to the extravagant bathroom to answer the call of nature.

 

My sense of smell distracts me, but only momentarily, as my bladder is urgent in its demands. At least these simple functions are manageable now, despite my healing right arm still immobile inside its cotton and fiberglass prison. Once that is done, I can rake fingers through my disheveled mane and follow the strange smell.

 

When I find it, my conflict of self is nearly paralyzing. 

 

Trembling, I reach out to stroke these lost tokens of myself that I have given little thought to. The familiar shirts and slacks neatly hung on new hangers are a startling glance at a woman I have completely stopped being. These are CD's clothes, the soft men's shirts and rainbow of tank tops and simple camisoles, the snug turtlenecks and businesslike slacks in primary dark colors. Caressing a few key favorites of my lost wardrobe is bittersweet, my mind roving over my life as a child of San Francisco. 

 

Even my own smells clinging faintly to the fabrics seems almost… off somehow.

 

"Hey baby," murmurs the beloved voice softly, drawing me from delving too closely to the physicality of these things. Turning, I smile helplessly at my mate, Catherine's sweet expression all I need to survive. "I enjoyed looking over your wardrobe when Tessa and I were putting it all out this afternoon. A snapshot into who you are."

 

"Who I was is more like it," I muse, the melancholia creeping back in. "They seem so weirdly unfamiliar."

 

Catherine tucks herself along my undamaged left side, her hands knowing exactly where to caress to cause no pain. "That's no surprise, Dace. You've been through so much is such a short space in time."

 

She's right of course. I have been through an avalanche of change these two months. Beginning with that fateful phone call from Magda's sister that caused me to re-don the persona of Leonacouer and step away from the falseness that was CD. Becoming myself once more led me to Catherine… and to Snake-Eyes.

 

The serial's mad red eyes will always haunt me.

 

"Being CD was how I coped," I think out loud, still conflicted over the physical token of the clothes. "And now it's like looking at someone else."

 

"Which is your favorite?"

 

The question completely takes me by surprise, but I only hesitate for a moment before reaching around Catherine to curl my fingers into familiar, soft red cotton. Her small hands take the garment as she steps away and holds the long-sleeved button-down open gallantly.

 

"Put it on."

 

Helpless to tell her no, I turn and we work together to get the shirt settled around my body before she prods me over to stand before the full length mirror.

 

And here I am, shades of who I was and who I am now blurred together in the folds of dark crimson. I was a good cop, loyal and brave and accomplished in my field. Oh sure, I've made some truly atrocious choices over time, the ongoing divorce proceedings still make me wince, but I've made good ones too.

 

"You can keep it all," Catherine reassures me, stepping in close enough to take my hand, leaning into my shoulder. "Past and present." Again, she is correct and I watch myself start to smile again before turning my head to duck down and kiss this wonderful woman. "That's nice. You and that great shirt come cuddle with me by the fire."

 

"Yes ma'am," I agree happily, giving the neatly hung clothes a passing glance as we stride by, at peace with them for now. A romantic fire and my beloved await me.


End file.
